


Here's the Smell of the Blood Still

by vogue91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Madness, POV First Person, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 21:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12993015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: I’m not a woman anymore. I haven’t been one in a long time. I’ve become a body, a soul, a blind and deadly passion. Lethal for the others when I’m put in front of my madness, lethal for myself when I’m in his hands.





	Here's the Smell of the Blood Still

**Here’s the Smell of the Blood Still**

_“Unsex me, and take my milk for gall. And fill me from the crown to the toe_ _top-full of direst cruelty!”_

The darkness in Azkaban is almost stinging.

It hurts my eyes, it calls me like his most worthy slave.

Like him. That darkness, I know it, it’s him.

 

_Unsex me_

I’m not a woman anymore. I haven’t been one in a long time. I’ve become a body, a soul, a blind and deadly passion. Lethal for the others when I’m put in front of my madness, lethal for myself when I’m in his hands.

There’s no escape, and I start to feel his presence running through my veins, mixing with the pure blood I’m so proud of.

He crawls inside of me, with a joy that borders on malice, taking those few crumbs of my soul that are still intact.

 

_And take my milk for gall_

Gall, gall. That venom so deep, assertive, flows in my hands and in my words, always drenched in his ideals and my sick love for him.

Love that’s still alive and more and more corrupted, amongst the grey walls of this prison. I feel overwhelmed by this stone, cold and hard just like my heart, cracked but still alive.

Alive for him, whom I still wait.

Night after night, every minute and every moment.

I’m here, alive, crazy and made of pure passion, I wait for my Lord like an animal his prey, and then ends up killed.

Killed, for waiting kills.

I look at my hands, they who have seen but death and pain, and I almost can’t feel proud of it. They touched too little flesh, these hands. They’ve held too little limbs, these arms.

I’m not a woman anymore, I’ve got no milk for creatures with the same blood as mine.

Only gall, for those children who’ll never dare to get closer.

 

_And fill me from the crown to the toe_

_top-full of direst cruelty_

Cruel.

I’ve heard this word echoing in my mind, said by a thousand voices, lamenting or enraged, or sad or hateful.

And I’ve always loved him, because this cruelty belongs to me, it’s mine, a part inborn a part given by him, by his living in me like a sickness.

I’m full of cruelty, but still not satisfied.

I want to let go of my worst instincts, while I’m still bound by this prison’s chains, while I still wait for a far freedom, while I still pray for all the evil in the world to reach out for me, to make me queen and servant of the pain that I know I can cause.

And my mind wanders, tireless, toward the thought of all those I bent to my will, of those who thought to be masters and found themselves slaves, of those who took the madness in my acts and mistook it for weakness.

I’m strong, I’m alive, and dozens of men who live in the same prison as me can declare how my power over them is second only to his, to the one of the Dark Lord.

To the one of Voldemort, who’s waiting.

Just like me.

 

_Take my milk for gall_

I close my eyes and I imagine his, so little deep and so shining, like the most beautiful stone.

From time to time I used to envy his lack of humanity, that humanity that has always enslaved me to my passion for him, unextinguished, because I kept feeding its fire.

Now he’s everywhere in this dark cell, of this prison buried inside the waters of an ever-stormed sea.

The black of my soul and of the darkness mixes with the red in his look, and reminds me that there is still blood waiting to be spilled, by our hands that know nothing but death.

 

_Unsex me_

Erase what’s left of my sex, Lord, and make me proud of not being a woman anymore, but to be able to fade into the eternity, being nothing and being all.

 

_…from the crown to the toe…_

From the crystal mind, feeble and ready to break in order to unleash its rage, to my heart, that granite that can’t be scraped from anyone but a force able to overcome any obstacle, to destroy everything on its path. My heart, this heart, if it was ever to hinder you, My Lord, I beg of you to annihilate it, to render it to ashes, and to take all I’ve got to give to you, because it’s me that’s been giving.

 

_…top-full of direst cruelty_

Cruelty can’t see, cruelty falls on the world and surrounds it, like it’s surrounding me in this hellish prison that’s clipping my wings, while men who don’t know they’re already dead believe to have imprisoned me for eternity.

Fools, unaware of the fact that eternity goes on just until you live, that we’re all masks in a sinister game of massacre, of which we’ll rip every victim, one after the other.

 

_Take my milk for gall_

Take my milk for gall, My Lord.

I’m here, now, in a useless body that’s waiting in the cold, overcoming and accepting the madness, hoping she can let an ever-growing poison flow on her body, that will make her reborn when you’ll decide it’s time. 

 

_Unsex me, and take my milk_

_for gall._

_And fill me from the crown to the toe_

_top-full of direst cruelty_  

 

Top-full of direst cruelty, My Lord. Voldemort.

I’m yours.

_'Tis safer to be that which we destroy_ _  
Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy._


End file.
